Haradrim
by Alysia James
Summary: The Haradrim have come to Gondor to sue for peace.
1. Default Chapter

Haradrim

A/N and Disclaimer: Ok, no doubt I am going to get flamed for my initial characterization of Boromir, but I keep going back to the scene in TT:EE at Osgiliath. That is not a man who is doom and gloom 24-7. So having said that, this is obviously Movieverse. There will be an OFC. So basically if any of that tweaks your buttons, now is the time to reach for the back button. If not, read on my friends and I hope you enjoy. Oh yeah I don't own any of the characters except Durfalath and the twins Aynesa and Eyresa.

A high-pitched giggle issued from beneath the furs on Boromir of Gondor's bed, followed by a huskier deeper laugh.

"Hold still, Aynesa."

Yet another high-pitched giggle issued from beneath the furs, "Nay my lord, I am Aynesa, that is Eyresa."

"Ah, well, yes, so it is. Hold still Ayn-Eyresa. Your stays are caught in my points."

"Well if you had completely disrobed as we asked, you would not be in this predicament," a smug feminine voice whined.

"Peace harpy! Must you bellow like a wounded orc? One's head is a bit tender this morn. And for Bema's sake stop moving!! I just had this made with sea-bleached linen from Dol Amroth. Your father charged me a fortune. Ahh there."

There was much rustling under the covers and out came a tanned broad hand holding the offending garment. It fell to the floor and the hand snaked beneath the covers once again.

"Are you pleased now, wench? Eru's balls it is cold out there. See!"

"Aieee!" shrieked one of the bed's mounds, "Are you mad? How dare you put your ice-cold hand—Ohhh, yes."

Faramir opened the door to his brother's chambers and walked in without invitation. Settling himself on a nearby chair, he cleared his throat. The undulation beneath the furs continued, Faramir cleared his throat louder.

"Oh cease, Annoyance. Either join us or see Cook for some honey for your throat."

Faramir blushed furiously. Ever his brother tried to embarrass him with his, ah, earthier nature, and ever he succeeded. "The cock crows brother—"

"—Not quite yet brother, but soon."

Another womanly giggle melted into a sigh and the blush on Faramir's cheeks spread to his ears.

Faramir tried again, "Our most redoubtable father requires your presence in the Hall of Kings. The Ambassador from Near Harad has arrived."

Curses issued from the bed and furs flew in all directions, uncovering a naked Boromir and two, nearly naked, identically lovely young ladies. Faramir groaned. Twins. These could only be Nimmis of Dol Amroth's daughters. Father was going to be less than pleased. Faramir snorted as soon as the thought formed. Boromir was the golden son. He could bed the virgin daughters of half the court and father would turn a blind eye.

He was called back to the present by a pillow striking his head. He looked up to see an angry, still-naked Boromir.

"Granted, I am not in top form this morn brother, but is snorting really called for?"

Faramir snorted again for he loved his big bear of a brother, who lived and loved as if each day where his last. He, Faramir, did not have that kind of courage.

"Make yourself useful scroat and find my squire," Boromir called on his way to the privy chamber.

Faramir sighed and set out to find Boromir's squire. Most like he would find Durfalath in a similar situation.

However, the gods were smiling on Faramir and Boromir both that day for Duri, as he was affectionately known to the brothers Hurin, remembering his lord's presence was requires for negotiations with the Haradrim that day, had taken himself to bed much earlier than was his want. For his lord he had even forsaken the comfort of feminine companies, or even the singular company. Durfalath groaned. The sacrifices he made for his great golden god.

Faramir sighed in relief to see Duri in the doorway, a suitable set of garment for his lord in hand and a strong concoction known only as Duri's Revenge in a goblet in the other. No man, wizard nor elf knew what was in Duri's Revenge, only that after a moment of feeling that one's insides were being made one's outsides, a whole night's overindulgence was erased. Still it was during that moment one wondered whether the cure was worse than the curse.

Boromir exited the privy, hair newly washed and a linen cloth wrapped around his slim waist. He looked to the young women still lying on the bed as if momentarily confused by who they were and what they were doing there, though they both were quite lovely and scantily--

"My lord!"

"Boromir!" Duri and Faramir said in unison.

Boromir clapped his hands to his ears and groaned. Duri pressed the goblet into Boromir's hand and ordered him to drink. Boromir downed the contents in one gulp and roared his displeasure.

"TREASON!! Who dares to poison the Steward's heir?!?!"

Duri ducked from long practice as the heavy goblet was hurled toward his head, clattering on the stone wall directly behind him.

Boromir worked his jaw and smiled. That devil of a headache was gone and now he could begin his day.

A maid, unnoticed, had brought in fruits, cheeses and breads for his break of fast. Boromir munched on an apple while his squire dressed him. Faramir bonelessly draped himself on a nearby chaise, licking sweet butter from his fingertips.

"Faramir, what of these ambassadors of Near Harad?"

Faramir reached for another piece of bread smothered in sweet butter, "What of them?"

Boromir's teeth ground together, "What can you tell me of them?"

Faramir chewed deliberately and swallowed, "Mmmm. Well, they are from Near Harad and they are ambassadors."

"Faramir," Boromir growled warningly.

Faramir chuckled, "You never did study brother. Harad is a land far to the south of our, Gondor's, borders," he began pedantically.

"Faramir!"

"Oh alright. Harad seeks to negotiate a peace. The war has been one of attrition for them as well. They sue for a peace at least long enough to get one full year's worth of crops harvested and into the bellies of their people."

"And a year to train more troops unmolested," Boromir grunted. "And what says our lord father?"

"The same as his beloved son. He knows it is a ploy to replenish their fighting force, but it will also give Gondor a moment's respite to do the same."

"Does he incline to it or no?"

Under normal circumstances Boromir would have known his father's mind as well as his own, but time spent fortifying Osgiliath meant he was not in Council to hear his father's thoughts on matters of state.

"He does."

Boromir nodded grimly and sat on the edge of his bed to pull on soft boots.

"Duri, see Aynesa and Eyresa safely and discreetly home." He rose and strode to the door. "Faramir you are with me."

The closed heavily against the jam and Duri turned to the ladies. My but they were beautiful.

"Well ladies, perhaps you should dress and –"

Duri's eyes widened as Aynesa, or was it Eyresa. crawled towards him across the bed. "It is still early my lord," she purred.

A smile curled Duri's lips. The negotiations would last for hours and all Boromir had asked was that he see the women home safely, he had said nothing about when.

"That it is my dear, that it is…"


	2. Chapter Two

Near Harad-One Year Ago

"Whore!" the man roared; the word striking the heart of the proud woman before him at the same time his open hand struck her face. "You are your mother's daughter, may the Sands of Nolodun bar her treacherous soul from Paradise. Have I not given you everything? Treated you as a daughter? Taken you into my house as though you were my own and not the thrice-cursed issue of a faithless whore and her craven lover?"

The woman bit her lip to bleeding to keep from shrieking at the man before her. She felt a trickle where the heavy gold bracelet had laid open her cheek.

"Yes, father, may your generosity assure you a place at the right hand of Him who is most High," she spit out the word father as if it were an acid that burned her tongue

No, not her father, she though fiercely. Her mother's lord and husband, yes, but not her father. Never her father!

The man looked down at the defiance radiating from his daughter's silver eyes. No, not his daughter. The despised by-blow of a short-lived affair. A smile crossed his lips as he remembered his wife's gasp of agony as he strangled the life from her lover, as she watched the light of life leave his strange, foreign hated silver-grey eyes; the same eyes that looked upon him with such contempt; the same eyes as the babe that stared up at him with such intensity. His infant grandson. His bastard grandson. Firstborn male of the line of Jolinar. His heir.

He regarded the boy's mother dispassionately. Any feeling he may have had for her was gone. Burned away in the white hot hatred of betrayal. She had given herself to a prince of the city just as her mother had bringing shame upon his house and her betrothed. He drew his knife. The keen edge glittered in the flickering lamplight. Perhaps he should remove this chancre on the honor his house as he should had done eighteen years before.

He handed the boy to a nearby servant and pulled the boy's mother to her feet by the throat. He brought the knife to her neck and smiled.

A strong grip on his wrist stopped him from pressing the point home "Nay my lord!" Barazan growled at the one who would stay his hand

The seneschal dropped his hand and bowed his head his tone more reverent, "My lord, the harlot may yet serve a purpose."

At the look of confusion on Barazan face the seneschal whispered urgently, "The peace with the men to the north?"

The voice was smooth and emotionless "Oh yes I had forgotten."

Nadira shivered as Barazan brushed a tender thumb across the cut her cheek, smearing the blood, "You may still redeem your honor and the honor of this house and," he paused and leaned in closer, his perfumed breath caressing her ear, "save the life of your bastard son." He dug his thumb cruelly into the hurt. Nadira could not help but cry out, "Please my lord," she begged, 'he is an innocent babe. He has done no wrong!"

"Ah, but there you are wrong; the very circumstance of his birth damns him. But you can save him my dearest daughter, the question is will you?"

Barazan nodded to his seneschal who plucked the child from the nurse's arms and pushed her to the floor. He strode to the nearest balcony and dangled the child over the balustrade by his leg. The man had but to open his hand and the child would plummet to his death on the cobbled streets some one hundred feet below.

"No!!!!' Nadira cried and tried to free herself from Barazan's grasp, "Do not!! I will do anything you ask! Anything!"

Barazan nodded again and the man lifted the babe to safety and brought him to his mother. Nadira snatched her babe to her breast tears of relief flowing down her cheeks to mingle with the blood.

"Yes," her father whispered, his low tone filling her veins with ice, "I should imagine you will."

Gondor-The Present

Boromir stared at his reflection in the polished shield hung outside the Council Chambers. Brushing imagined lint from the sleeve of his over-tunic, Boromir readied himself to face his father.

"Enough brother, there is nothing wrong with how you look. You are not called Boromir the Fair for lack of sun. Though in winter your complexion does border on maidenly," Faramir teased.

Boromir glared, "No doubt, nuisance, to the uncultured, uneducated and hopelessly unsophisticated the flatulent ruminations of your mind are vastly amusing—"

"—I do not know brother, are they?" Faramir smoothly interrupted and was rewarded with a slightly more than brotherly punch to the shoulder.

"Come brother," Faramir laughed, "let us to the council chamber before we a re forced to discipline the Council guard for their lack of decorum."

He stared pointedly at the heaving shoulders of a young sentry who was obviously vastly entertained and doing a poor job of disguising it.

Boromir tugged at his sleeve again and nodded at the herald. The sentry opened the door and announced the brothers Hurin.

"The Lords Boromir and Faramir of the House of Hurin," the introduction was truncated as the brothers brushed past the herald and as one went smoothly to knee in front of their father.

Boromir began in smooth round tones, "Most redoubted Father we are, as ever at your—"

"—Rise best-loved and you as well Faramir. "The delegation of Harad will be here within the quarter hour and you needs must know my mind on this matter so that we may present a united front."

Boromir flinched at the intended slight to his beloved brother and went to voice his protest. His brother's hand on his arm stayed him and a soft shake of his brother's head caused Boromir's mouth to close with an audible click.

Denethor missed the exchange as he reached behind him to retrieve the scrolls which contained the demands of the Haradrim along with his thoughts and counter offers on each point.

Boromir quickly studied and nodded his understanding. Faramir however was not content with one of the concessions that may cause several families to be displaced from their holdings and while he was slow to speak on his own behalf, injustice to those weaker than himself, even in the best interests of Gondor, brought forth the tiger in him.

"My lord father, what of the farming communities in—"

Denethor's eyes snapped icy fire, "This is why I summoned you to me before the arrival of the delegation. Would you have the Haradrim say we are weak and squabbling? That their leader cannot even command the obedience of a feeble and rebellious son?!"

Whatever Faramir's response would have been was cut off by the hurried words of the court herald. "Gentlemen and Lords of the Council, the delegation has arrived." Boromir and Faramir had barely enough time to array themselves to their father's left and right hand before the council chamber doors were thrown back and the Harradic ambassadors entered the hall.


End file.
